Author's Note: Having been inspired by all the wonderful stories out there I thought I'd try my hand at it too. This is my first attempt, so please be kind. If you like what you've read so far, please r&r.
Disclaimer: Just to let you all know. I neither own the characters nor the copy right on them. I'm just obsessed about them and think about them way too much.
Having grown up in the Shire, Frodo didn't have much experience with boats, especially ones this big. Well, at least for a hobit they were considered big, although Frodo had a feeling that for one of the big people these would have been considered rather small, Frodo quietly amended to himself. Yet for all his inexperience with being on the water there was still something soothing about being in the boat.
The gentle rocking of the boat, the warm cloak around him and Aragorn's soft, gentle humming in the background, a tune that Frodo didn't recognize, yet which still sounded familiar to him was doing something that he hadn't been able to do in a long time. All these things worked together to relax Frodo, the way that the gentle rocking of a mother will lull a baby to sleep with the promise of safely and love.
"Frodo-lad, is that tea ready yet?"
With a sudden jerk Frodo looks up, almost expecting to be back in
Bag End with Bilbo sitting by the fire in the main room waiting for Frodo to bring him his evening tea. Looking around, Frodo realizes that he must have fallen asleep, dreaming about Bilbo, Bag End, and happier times. Looking at the refection of the sun on the water, those memories feel like a dream, a memory from a lifetime ago.
"If you're tired Frodo, you may as well lay down. There isn't anything to look at anyway and we've still a ways to go before stopping."
"I'm alright. Just let my mind wander a bit, I reckon."
But having heard Bilbo's voice, even if it was only in a dream, dredged up within Frodo an over-flowing of homesickness, a sudden desire to turn around and just go back to the Shire. Just turn around and go back to Bag End and hide his head under his nice, soft pillow and forget all about rings and orcs and things that go bump in the night.
"Strider, do you ever wish things were different?"
"What do you mean Frodo?"
"Well, that this whole business with the ring was someone else's responsibility, that you were safely somewhere else and knew nothing about it."
Turning to look at Aragorn, Frodo is once again amazed at how easily the man sitting behind him has not only accepted, but handled all the additional responsibility that has been thrust upon him. Had the roles been reversed Frodo knew that there was no way he would have handled things as well as Strider, especially without Gandalf there to guide them.
"I mean, have you ever wished that all these burdens could have landed on someone else's shoulders?"
Looking at Frodo, Aragorn can see the fear and doubt clouding the hobit's usually clear eyes. And thinking about it carefully, he wonders what he can say that will ease the troubled hobit's burden, even if only for a short little while.
"I think we've all wished, at times, to abandon our burden to someone else. Yet, I think that deep inside ourselves lies the strength to do what needs to be done."
"Don't you just ever want to run away from it all?"
"I like to think that I, like you, was put on this earth for such a time as this."
Those words, said so kindly, reminded Frodo so much of Gandalf that he could almost hear them coming from the old wizard's lips. And suddenly, the grief that Frodo had kept so tightly wound inside of himself loosened just a little. It was like a part of Gandalf was still with them all.
"Thank you," Frodo said as he turned back to look over the front of the boat, wondering if things would have turned out better if someone else had been chosen to take the ring.